Cruel Irony
by TheLandOfChillies
Summary: If one strives to be forever pure, they are so easily corrupted. A certain doctor muses on the so called purity of the Miko, Kikyo. SuikotsuKikyo Very depressing.


Summary: If one strives to be forever pure, they are so easily corrupted. A certain doctor muses on the so called purity of the Miko, Kikyo. SuikotsuKikyo Very depressing.

Disclaimer: Don't own Inuyasha.

Cruel Irony:

It was ironic, really.

The beaming smiles on the chubby, rounded faces of children, their clothes embedded with grass stains, the out reaching of their sticky, small hands that grasped on her trouser like a plants creeper.

And those sparkling eyes...unsoiled by the toils of life, forever trusting, gleaming with blind faith in the beautiful, "untainted" woman before them.

He knew better.

Of course Suikotsu always knew better.

Everything about her was too perfect, too pure. To be considered so chaste was an impurity in itself, the way her eyes lied to all those around him: lifeless, empty sockets of earthy brown, constantly blank, as if the Miko was a puppet, being pulled by her own walls of security that surrounded her like an army of the most highly trained samurai. She was untouchable.

Like a cold queen, peering down at the mortals below her.

How wonderful she was, the locals gossiped. So stunning, whispered the elderly women. Young men blushed as she passed: a cold, untouched goddess, her face only softening when a sweet child, mainly a little girl with the widest, most innocent eyes pushed a sakura blossom in the Miko's hand. Suikotsu would watch as long, pale fingers stroked the petal, a wistful glance stealing across her face as a distant memory implanted itself on her mind. Instead of indulging in her thoughts further, he would watch as her mask slipped on her face as easily as when a bride puts on make up, before she kissed the girl on the forehead and thanked her for such a precious gift.

She turns to look at him quickly, but Doctor Suikotsu returns to his grounding of herbs.

He was sure, at one time, she had stood in a shower of sakura petals, her face glowing with happiness, the spring breeze that blew on her face back then in promise of summer warmth.

But summer ends. And in his heart, he knew winter lasts longer, frozen within the deeps voids of the mind.

He wears a mask as well.

His mask conceals something so hideous it repels him to even think of it, as the shard that adorns his neck grows brighter. She is at the door now, watching him, her eyes narrowing in suspicion, but there is something there as well. Empathy.

She knows that Suikotsu is aware of her presence.

Suikotsu knows this as well. The bowl he was holding falls to the floor and clatters, echoing in the small hut, disturbing the empty silence that lingers like a black cloud. He feels his own mask slip on to his face as he turns round slowly, their eyes slowly locking as he stares at her directly.

Lady Kikyo's mask was off.

Kikyo's body was trembling. Her eyes now swam with a unknown emotion as she peered blindly down at the doctor, her face serene, almost scarily calm though one single tear rolled down a white cheek. Suikotsu feels himself move, his arms reach out in a type of hopeless motion, as if he can steal the pain from the very air she breathes.

He encases her body in his arms in one swift movement, the smell of water and bellflower's reaching his nostrils. His hands hold onto her awkwardly, caressing her back, with one large hand, rough from his work of pulling up herbs. Lady Kikyo does not return the embrace...she stands there, like a concrete angel, the wind and rain of life wearing her down little by little.

He can feel the soddenness of his shoulder, her tears were now running freely. As the soft candlelight caught her tear, it gleamed like a diamond before making its demise on the doctor's shoulder. He hears her whimper, and says out loud, her voice choked with emotion:

"I cannot go back to the way I used to be."

She says it over and over again, as if constantly reminding herself of that dreadful fact, her mask cracking as her world collapses, for the second time in her life, around her. Kikyo feels a strong hand stroke the back of her hair, entangling itself in her raven strands. His breath tickles at her ear.

"Nether can I."

Outside, the rain starts to patter and the clouds start to darken: laughing children flee for cover and into the comforting arms of their parents. Thunder cracks along the sky as a crushed sakura blossom, soft as velvet lies in the mud: a small, pale hand reaches forward to save it, only for the cruel wind to scatter it away, as it is lost forever in the midst of the storm, its gentle beauty never mourned, and always forgotten.

So the storm carried on its duties, cleansing the earth as water cleanses the very blood off a doctor's hand.

But leaves it forever tainted.

Fin

Consider this a rather jacked up drabble that went wrong. Anyway, this fic really..I don't know, causes me to go all depressed and tragic. Though, I thought I should do at least one angsty oneshot!

Please read and review.


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